Mind

Rohit Sharma

“Have you even decided what you’re going to do after tenth? What stream do you want to take? What do you want to learn in college? What type of a career do you want to pursue? What do you want to make out of yourself?”

My father, a fat, professionally-suited man in a brown coat-suit in his fifties, scolded me as he sat dominantly on the white dazzling sofa, his back filled with attitude as it rested on the backrest and his left hand, filled with a number of shining rings and shit like that, on the armrest. His face was filled with black mustache and beard, and white hair on his head.

Across the brown laminated table sat my figure, my head tilted down, my eyes narrowed down in attitude and rudeness, to be honest.

“Tell me, Rohit. Don’t you see this bungalow around you?” My father said in his hoarse voice. “Don’t you want to live just like this? Do you think making this property is easy?”

Well, my eyes were angrily looking downward as they frowned a little.

“To be honest, I wanted to say some shit in reply, to fucking scream and shout at him in return, but I fucking stayed silent. Just like always. Motherfucker, ya gotta stay silent in front of yer dad.”

“Tell me, Rohit!” He angrily shouted at me. “TELL ME!”

My little sister was on the door on the left, glaring toward us, with half her body behind the wall. The faint yellow light of the room fell on her, but her face was still a little blackened.

I gulped in. I stayed silent.

“You’re a good-for-nothing bastard who—!”

“Shut up!” I shouted back at my father.

“I shouldn’t have said that shit. I fucked up.”

My father’s eyes narrowed in anger and disbelief. “What did you say?”

I stayed silent, my eyes still filled with the same fucking attitude.

He moved his back frontward. “Hey, see me here, you kid. See me in my fucking eyes.”

My head stayed down, my eyes frowning.

“SEE ME IN MY FUCKING EYES, YOU KID!”

My head turned up and I looked him into his eyes… with those narrowed eyes of mine, still frowning a little.

“It has become some sort of everyday shit for me, to be honest. Now, I don’t feel threatened by this shit, motherfucker.”

My sister turned away and ran inside her room.

In the drawing room, now, sat only the two of us, looking into each other’s eyes.

“And if ya feel that it’s gonna be followed by some intense shit, lemme tell ya that it’s just my everyday life. After I hear that old guy’s lecture, I go up to my room, and to get to normal from my fucked up mind, I… I fucking masturbate.”

After some minutes, I was on the toilet of my washroom. The room was lit only by a LED bulb, which shone brightly. My chest was shaking vigorously as my right arm moved up and down.

As I was on the task, the image of my father shouting at me appeared in my mind. I remembered his threatening voice, “SEE ME IN MY FUCKING EYES, YOU KID!”

“Masturbation helps you relieve stress. So, I masturbate. And I masturbate a lot. Because I fucking need it. Because things are the same in school too.”

“Rohit, where is your notebook?”

“Ma’am, I left it at home. But, I—”

“I told everyone in the class to bring their notebooks! Where were you then?!”

“Ma’am, I—”

“I don’t want more excuses from you, Rohit! Enough is enough! I’ll call your parents right after this class!”

“And that’s how I ended up getting scolded by my father, motherfucker.”

Flush!

The door of the washroom opened, and I walked out of it. I entered a room similar to mine—white paint and dazzling LEDs—but it was bigger than mine, and more spacious, to be honest. I walked straight from between the bed and the right wall, pushed open the door after a couple of steps, and walked out, closing the door behind my back again.

I walked to the other edge of the narrow corridor with wooden work done on the walls, twisted the doorknob, pulled open the door, and walked in, closing the door behind my back. I walked to my study table on the right edge of the room, pulled the black gaming chair with wheels below it, and sat on it, my head tilted down.

“Well, I should not masturbate fucking three to four times a day like today, motherfucker. My dick fucking hurts nowadays,” I thought. “But… then… how the fuck am I supposed to relieve this stress of mine? Vapes ain’t enough for me now.”

“And if y’are just like me who masturbate, ya know about the post-masturbate guilt that ya feel after ya nut.”

I then turned my head to my table on the left, looking at the books lying here and there on the table. “Well, I should finish my fucking homework, then.”

I pushed my chair to the table, opened one of the books lying on the table, and then started to read it.

The black modern clock with golden outlining work done on it was hanging on top of the drawing room, in front of the cream wall. It showed the time six-thirty. The gold needles rotated as the time passed, and soon enough, it was a quarter to eight.

The pen in my hand was let loose, and it fell on top of the notebook. The page of the notebook was filled completely blue with the ink of the pen. I looked at my shitty handwriting filled with English letters without any straight lines and all circling here and there for fucking whatever reason, and then turned to my right hand which lay dead on the notebook. My wrist twisted and I glared at my white palm.

“Motherfucker, this shit is filled with my cum,” I thought as I glared at it with my narrowed eyes.

“I… want to run away from this world. I wanna run away from this shitty place. My parents are always fucking me up, my teachers are always fucking me up, and my friends are always fucking me up.”

I remembered Aaryan and Kritvik as I sat on the bench, looking at those shit games they played, and then fucking them up with my smashes once it was my turn.

“Can’t life be as carefree as it was last night?” I thought. “Can’t my life be like what it used to be when I was little?”

“Well, I was fucking sixteen at that time, and… I was already remembering my fucking childhood. That’s what this system fucking does to us, I guess. It fucking fucks our minds up. Well, that’s life, still, because maybe ya can’t grow up and become mature without going through all this shit. But still, it’s too much, alright?”

I turned my head skyward, looking at the ceiling. “I wanna run away from this shit place. I ain’t belong here. I… I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to be what my father is.” My eyes glared at the white shining ceiling seriously. “How fucking much would have this ceiling cost him, motherfucker…”

“I gotta make so much money that I can make some shit like this one day too. But… how will I? How the fuck am I supposed to make such shit ton of money? What degree should I take? What job should I seek? Should I open a fucking business? What the actual fuck am I supposed to do?”

“It kinda worries me how the fuck he made this shit ton of money. How the fuck did he open such a business? His company ain’t even famous, just a dozen of motherfuckers work there for him.”

I closed my eyes. “Fuck. I’m stressed about this shit again.” I took a deep breath from my nose and filled my chest, and then exhaled it out. “I wanna fucking run away from here. I… I wanna go to a distant land, where I can live freely without any stress or shit like that. I… I wanna just vape and do no shit all day long, and be naked on the bed, fucking the babes in the videos.”

“But, life ain’t this simple, is it?”

I opened my eyes. “I’m gonna go play badminton with these guys from tomorrow on.”

I remembered Kritvik swinging his racket at a shuttle coming at him.

“And he plays fucking good. I wanna fuck him up once in a game, and I gotta practice until then too.”

Suddenly, a smile erupted on my lips.

“Well, Aaryan too plays well. I guess I’m the only one who plays shit.”

“To be honest, those… motherfuckers are fun.”

“When Kritvik had begun to come to my house to take the packages, I was depressed because of the sole reason that I don’t have a single friend with whom I can share every little shit that’s going on in my fucking head. I wanted someone with whom I can be carefree with, someone I can be myself with, and someone… who will truly accept me. But, being on the top of a fucking delinquent gang has gotten me a lot of fucking respect, but because of this shit, no one fucking dares befriend me truly. So… In that way, to be honest, these motherfuckers were special. And… And I felt like… even though they’re not the people with whom I can share every little shit in my head, they were surely the ones I can call whenever I feel depressed, and they’ll be fucking here for me. Yeah, we had just a single hour of badminton together, but I was this depressed about this shit of not having a friend that… that a single hour of badminton with them gave them a special place in my heart. I used to be that desperate, motherfucker.”

I moved my back frontward and stood up from the chair on my feet. I turned to the door to the balcony on my left, and glared at it with a smile for some seconds.

“Motherfucker, I was truly smiling, ain’t I?”